There's nothing to do
at 2:30 A.M.
'cept wonder why bother
to hold down the fort
when the streets're like slingshots to you?

And you told me, "Don't worry",
which is easier done
than to think of a way
to politely explain
that nothing's exciting to me anymore
and I can't think of why it should be

and it takes me nine mornings
just to come to my senses
since the boss caught me pawing
through the register drawer
He said "Son, I won't fire you,
nor will I desire you."
I said "Son, I don't work here no more."

Now I live on iced coffee
and I throw up my hands
and I wait by the phone
with a list of demands
that it took me nine months to compile
and I've counted your money
and I've been through your purse
for matches to torch
my enormous self-worth with
but the one thing I've learned
since the day of my birth
is that nothing I cherish is real

and it takes me nine mornings
to ignore all the warnings
and to sleep through the sirens
and their answering machines
and I get awful queasy
when I realize it's easy
to justify ends by the means

now I never liked horses
and I don't like to ride
and I never liked sayin'
what it feels like inside
when nothing's exciting to me anymore
and I can't think of why it should be